


jump the gun

by yanai (oddfiend)



Category: One Piece
Genre: Assassin Vinsmoke Sanji, Assassins & Hitmen, Crossdressing, Ex-Assassin Nico Robin, M/M, Out of Character, Thief Nami, Vinsmoke Siblings Being A Family, i guess?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:53:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29985918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddfiend/pseuds/yanai
Summary: Vinsmoke Sanji isthe bestat:1. Gun Mastery;2. Dagger Mastery;3. Stealth Assassination;4. Liquidation of Witnesses;5. Undercover Missions.Vinsmoke Sanji isnot very goodat:6. Fighting a Lady;7. Tinkering with Food;8. Following the Orders.Vinsmoke Sanji isthe absolute worstat:9. Falling in Love.
Relationships: Nami/Nico Robin, Roronoa Zoro/Vinsmoke Sanji
Comments: 20
Kudos: 49





	1. Walking In, Walking Sin

**Author's Note:**

> Title and chapter names are a reference to Adore Delano's song "Jump The Gun" and its lines, which I highly recommend! _I would recommend every one of Adore's song, tbh_.  
> You can listen to this story's playlist on [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4n8zPo0mGDybLSsatnhNn7?si=x0FQ9uchQ_-PPbUGAQg1iQ&utm_source=copy-link)!💙💚

Everything has started entirely undeliberate, Sanji thinks, when he finds himself pinned to the wall of his little apartment—and smearing his favorite burgundy lipstick all over a man's lips and down his jaw; sharp nails clawing at the man's chest, as a scorching heat presses Sanji onto the cold concrete—inevitable contrast igniting him from the inside. It has definitely been undeliberate, he's convinced of it, sprawled on the bed, wrists in a tight lock above his head—as the man nibbles on his exposed neck with Sanji's head thrown back in ragged breathing, him leaving maroon marks all over the pale skin.

Has it stayed undeliberate until the very end is yet for Sanji to figure out, as he is sitting perched highly on the edge of the windowsill—a cigarette between his still quivering fingers; his beautiful long legs pushed up to exhibit under the scandalously short hem of his satin wine dress. A mere hour ago he's been mercilessly fucked by a guy—one that he tricked to believe that he was a woman; and now there are agents all over his place, sniffing out any evidence and shooting him suspicious and annoyed glances. What? Can't he get laid now?

Well, maybe he can, just _not_ with his target. That's a little _oopsie_ on his part—he smiles smugly into the cigarette's filter.

"Sanji" a gorgeous, heavenly-created lady—Robin, his colleague—calls after him, apparently figuring something interesting out, so she decides to approach him.

"Yes, my moon?" he tilts his head to the side, smiling the gentlest of smiles—his loose raven locks fall onto his face, obscuring even more of his sight, as if his ever present fringe is not enough.

He hasn't had time to ditch or even straight out his matted wig—it's a miracle the hairpiece survived the wildest sex he's ever had—so Sanji has to tolerate those sticking out strands, as they successfully conceal the majority of marks across the base of his neck and some collarbone. Besides, some of the agents cluttering his space don't know the way he usually looks, so there's that.

"I believe you know, that by the protocol, if we find any evidence of you messing with your target, I'm getting you _off_ of the case?" she asks, smiling innocently—her voice is thick with an obvious threat.

Sanji simply takes a long drag of his cigarette, holding her gaze—though his cheeks tint rose. "Of course, my sugarplum"

"Well then," she takes a stand not far from his improvised seat, but respectfully far enough, "would you care to articulate _why_ we are here at all?" Robin gestures widely to the scene behind her back; where lower rank agents are snooping at every corner of a little flat, grabbing anything that can work as a proof of him going against the protocol.

Sanji smiles, glancing over the mess they've made of everything, and looks back at Robin, stifling his heart at the inevitable lie that is gonna befall his lips, as he once again holds her gaze, "I don't really know, my darling, I'm sorry. As I recall, someone contacted me while I was in a middle of a mind-blowing sex with a call boy, but for some reason they presumed I was doing it with my target—"

"To be fair, you _do_ have an astounding streak of messing with your targets," she returns in a low voice.

Sanji doesn't like lying to women, he likes to argue with them even less—so he just doesn't. Besides, she _is_ right on this one.

"Yes, my dear" he agrees with her completely light-hearted.

Robin is metaphorically circling around him, each step is measured and collected—she follows his eyes, whether he's gonna slip up and glance to where the evidence lies. Sanji knows better—the only ever evidence that might work out is hidden safely inside him, and he highly doubts that any of the new recruits Robin has taken with her, would get even a remotely close hint.

"You mean to tell me," she pauses, taking step closer—Sanji shifts just a tiny bit with that uncomfortable feeling that he gets from her move. "This _all_ was just a simple call boy?"

He suspects _she knows_ he's actually done what he's accused of, it's to be expected of her to know—but he _cannot_ let her get him off the case. Not now. Sanji only nods, as nonchalant as he can.

"Why are you in Jade then?" she smiles—and Sanji knows this smile _too well_. Robin definitely _knows_.

Sanji chokes up, but he immediately plays it out as smoke going the wrong way.

"Just wanted to play around"

She isn't buying.

"Hm," Robin taps her chin thoughtfully. "Would you please fix your hem?"

Oh fuck. _Oh fuck_. To fix his dress _the right_ way, he needs to stand up—he _can't_ stand upright, he'd be busted immediately. She's _definitely_ got him figured out—but if he stands up, _everyone_ will understand. Sanji really hates to play that card—he _hates_ to plat any kind of offensive with women at all, it's against his very core. The status quo calls for drastic measures—there is a very important reason he can't let Robin have her way now.

"I prefer it a bit revealing, my moon, Besides _miss Johansdottír_ thinks I should show my thighs a bit more" he beams at her, "how's she by the way?"

Sanji _hates_ to address this particular topic, he's the only one besides Robin herself who knows the truth about the whole situation—and he's promised to never bring it up without a sufficing reason. Yet here he is, rubbing this sore spot and for _what_? Something as mediocre as him having sex with his target—and no corpse to justify his methods. He might just need to undergo some extra schooling back at the headquarters.

"Haven't seen her in a while," Robin falls back on her heels, surprise flashing across her face—before she settles for a little but no less menacing smile. "I suppose she's good"

"Good to hear" Sanji replies, butting his cigarette off and flicking it through the window. "I'm sure she's just as spectacular as I remember"

Robin allows a more affectionate smile to tug at her lips, before narrowing her eyes at Sanji with an unspoken warning, and she steps back, "I'm positive"

Sanji knows too well that she's got him unbelievably clean—and she is allowing him to play it out to his liking. God, he _loves_ women.

Robin then turns around, leaving her colleague to his helpless attempts to light up another cigarette, and addresses the crowd that is gloomier than he's seen them ever before.

"If neither of you have found anything peculiar, we are done here" she calls out, waving to her subordinates—and there are _sighs_ and _whines_ of denial in varying voices, taking Sanji by surprise.

Oh, they've _really_ dreamed of catching him red-handed at the so-called "crime scene". Sanji can't help but wonder, how many people he has crossed in their organization with his indisputable prowess as the best—to have even low rank agents wanting him off the case? Or maybe it's the case itself they're after? After all, his target is a famed Roronoa Zoro, no less. _Any_ high ranking, not to mention _lows_ , agent would want this case for themselves; they'd be _giddy_ to get their hands on this goldmine of an assignment—and there is essentially _no one_ in the entire organization who can carry it out except Sanji.

"Scramble up" Robin adds, when no one approaches her with reliable evidence, but she still shoots Sanji a warning glare—who's still on the window's ledge, with his back against the wall, knees propped up as he bents over his outer-side leg, observing complacently the way some of the younger agents steal hungry glances of his calves tied up in burgundy ribbons, pulling at his stiletto heels.

"Don't get sidetracked, Sanji" she smiles, knowing he understands the _deeper_ meaning of her warning.

Sanji reddens up at the way she's personal with him—and then she pushes a strand of her beautiful onyx hair behind her ear, flexing _an engagement ring_. Sanji knows, who this belongs to and he has to apply extra effort to not jump off the ledge and hug Robin, congratulating her. Even so, _when did they—_

"You needn't worry, my moon" he tells her, relaxing a bit—he can breathe a little easier now that Robin has given him explicit permission to have some more time.

Sanji doesn't know how much he has before others start questioning them two, but he hopes to have at least a few days, and then, after he's finished, he'll just take all of the blame on himself—they can't punish him _too_ bad, he's their trump card anyway. Besides, they know that if he wanted, he'd seize the control of the organization, he has enough means to do that—he just doesn't care enough to do it.

"I sure hope so" Robin shoos the last of her subordinates, snapping them out of their trance—the apartment is a bit more ruffled than the way it has been right after he and his target messed around, bumping into every fucking corner or furniture on their way to the bed, with heated kisses and hungry touches and eyes, closed in pure bliss.

"See you at HQ" she waves him farewell, and shuts the door after.

Sanji waits a good ten minutes before all of the cars screech away from the parking, smoking a cigarette after cigarette, letting the nervousness bleed out of his limbs with every drag—he then clumsily slides off the windowsill, careful with his movements. He needs to get away from this place right now, knowing full well that Robin has left a few bugs here and there—the protocol had her do that, even if she didn't want to; she's their head of internal safety, after all. He'll come back tomorrow, when he will have safely disposed of any physical evidence that can be traced back to his target.

"Hey"

The voice of the other side of the line grunts, clearly displeased with the call, but to be honest, Sanji couldn't care less right now.

"What?" the man answers anyway—there's a shuffling in the background and a little annoyed whine, but it's quickly suspended after a 'Gimme a second, Luffy'

Sanji sighs, flicking his sharp nails, "I need your help" and looks out of the cab's window. The night city lights are pretty, and he'd rather be in some club right now, showering ladies in attention than sit on a battered fake leather back seat of a stinking cab with a driver who's scrunched his face at Sanji when he's stepped out of the apartment building—although he's exchanged his beautiful satin dress for a tight three piece, he's still decided to leave the wig on, fixing his hairdo and mug and now he looked less like a woman, and more like a guy with long black hair and exquisite taste in cosmetics. Not that those straight johndoes can appreciate the beauty of make up anyway.

"When do you never?" comes the reply and there is a soft chuckle to the side.

" _Law_ " Sanji'd roll his eyes, if the man could see it, but there is probably a good few thousand miles between them right now, so it bears no sense to exhaust his eyes.

"What?" he barks, "Robin has found out already?"

Sanji knows Law asks this out of sheer formality at this point—he'd never call just to have a friendly chat. Sanji huffs, irritated, but his friend is right—she has, and if she has, then the board has too; whether she has given him an upper hand by reporting back empty or not, he's soon gonna be called back to headquarters and questioned. Ugh, why is that he _always_ gets caught up in some mess with the same mistake— _never get involved sexually with the target without killing them thereafter_ , he hears a voice his head which sounds distinctively similar to his mentor.

"I need a room" _and some time_ , he doesn't say, but he, once again, doesn't need to. Law is _superior_ at getting hints.

"And you what? Expect me to chant out 'Room' and get you one?" he grits, weariness apparent in his voice. "I don't recall ever being a fucking magician, Sanji"

Sanji snorts, and then he hears Law groaning to the side with 'Luffy! _Not fucking now_!'

"Wha, ya boyfriend is trying to blow you while we're talking?" Sanji reigns in the way Law halts his annoyed huffing—and then catches a glimpse of a disgusted grimace from the driver, reflected in the rear window.

He cocks a brow at him, asking 'Do you need me to point directions?' in a clear warning.

"That'd be you" Law snaps to the mic, and then grunts.

Sanji inhales deeply, offended, "I have _never_ called you while being blown" he inclines with the most innocent voice he can master. He _knows_ Law is scrunching his face right now—he did, after all, call him while being blown, they both know that. And not even once.

They're still friends anyway.

"Get to Kid" Law advises and hangs up, cutting a shout from the background short.

As if he _isn't_ already going to Kid. Sanji shakes his head, and switches to his laptop, opening the secured database and looking up the file of Roronoa Zoro—for a god knows which time during his 'business' trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would really like to hear your thoughts!♥


	2. Everything But A Halo

" _Jade_ " a man smiles at Sanji, having opened the door to his garage and now leaning against the frame. "What brings the beauty of yours into my pitiful lonely house?"

Sanji looks the man up and down, then rolls his eyes, brushing a loose strand away from his cheek—and passes the man on his way inside, dropping a "Cut that shit out, Kid" as he nudges the man with his long nail. The man whines dismayed, but slides the garage door behind them with a loud rattling, as Sanji proceeds to lean against one of the shelves stuffed with instruments. Even though he's not in his dress, he is still wearing his wig, having braided it loosely on his way here—and that's enough of a clue for Kid to try and hit on Jade, Sanji's female persona.

"Law called. Here" the man shoves a piece of paper into Sanji's hand, and the assassin knows what's written there—everyone among their little group knows that both of the phones that he has on him are wiretapped and the organization is eavesdropping on his conversations; Robin, probably, does it herself now, to buy him a bit more time.

For being the organization's best assassin and the highest paid field agent Sanji is subjected to a hell of a lot of stupid limitations—there's a chance it's precisely because of his inability to keep his dick in his pants (or his dress), but no one is telling.

Law's line, though, is always secure, courtesy of his boyfriend's inventions-for-brain best friend, so he doesn't get to worry about that at least.

"Also, I need a new ring" he throws nonchalantly and Kid beams brightly—a 'ring' is the codename for guns they have invented; Sanji only uses it when he needs a firearm that is not accounted in the organization.

Kid silently taps the wall behind one of the shelves, as Sanji leaves his mobile devices on the table next to the garage door—and as the secret passageway to the basement opens up in the wall, the man muses "Imma tell Bonney to hook you up"

"Ah, lady Bonney, the peach of my existence" Sanji swoons, thinking about the pink haired Venus that is another of Law's accomplices—she usually takes care of Sanji's jewelry for occasions, and as she is not known to officially belong to any organizations, his masters are not worried about her. A grave mistake, actually, but he won't tell them that.

Kid frowns, muttering something close to "I'm jealous, y'know" but Sanji dismisses it as he glances around the widest assortment of guns displayed at every visible surface—and some yet invisible, as Sanji remembers.

Kid is a firearms junky, he practically gets high on tinkering with weaponry alone—if you need a gun that has been taken out of commission, he's your guy. "What would you like? _Jades_? Emeralds? Maybe diamonds?" 

Sanji is more than used to these 'pet' names for Kid's weapon collection—he considers them to be gems of firearm industry, underestimated and overlooked by military in pursue of either firepower or light weight. From the assassin's perspective, such dedication to his hobby is worth of respect, but sometimes Kid overdoes it, when he lists all of the best qualities of a gun but misses to mention that the designated firearm is about three times the rifle's weight, which is, well, not very applicable in Sanji's line of work.

Instead of answering, though, he unbuttons the jacket, revealing the holsters hidden safely underneath—one for a gun, and one for the magazine. Eustass can't help but whistle at the high end leather straps, hugging at his ribs tightly, and Sanji smiles proudly, if not going for a little twirl, and then dislodges the classic Steyr M1912—not his own choice of a gun, per se, but the one that their armorer has considered fit for the assignment.

"Huh? No IWB?" Kid bewilderedly asks before Sanji instinctively shoves a fist down the man's throat—only later realizing he's left his phones in another room and his current conversation is less likely to be heard.

He humphs, and lets go of Kid, but the man grins and catches Sanji by the writs, squeezing his calloused fingers across his delicate skin—and before the assassin can retract his hand, Kid licks his fingers, which, in turn, results in an immediate kick to the groin, sending the redhead doubling over in pain.

"Merciless lady"

Dear god, Sanji is _so_ fucking tired—ever since Kid has learnt of his female persona, of Jade, he's been trying to get her in bed. Unlucky for him, though, Sanji has _taste_ , thank you very much. Instead of continuing the fruitless discussion, Sanji signs 'BWB' with his hands, and gently taps the front of his right hip, accentuating a concealed holster that contains his emergency handgun.

"Hm," Kid taps his lips, looking around—and then brightens up, apparently finding what he's been looking for.

He strolls to the other side of the basement and unlocks the lattice showcase to pull out a black streamlined gun, simple and surprisingly not flashy, obviously not what Sanji has expected to be offered right away. Kid catches a pack of 9mm Parabellum on his way back, as well as two magazine replacements.

"One onyx stuffed with gold, and two sapphires, as blue as the balls you're giving me, my dear" he sing-sangs, handing Sanji everything—watching as he measures the grip in his hand.

"Oh, fuck you" the assassin replies, cocking the gun and gracing Kid's face in a wide arc before he discharges the load into the further wall—the one with the most gunshot holes.

Sanji has probably had his mind fucked out, because _how_ could he forget that firing a gun in a cramped little basement without anything to cover his ears is an easy way to go deaf—he yelps, surprised, and covers his ears, just as Kid mirrors him and they wait patiently for the ringing in their ears to stop resonating throughout the skull.

"Sorry, that was, uh, dumb" Sanji shouts—he still can't grasp the sounds normally, but judging by the way Kid nods, he is just the same.

Only when they finally exit the basement into the lounge, where a PS4 has been left on, Sanji manages to hear normally. He settles the gun, he recognizes now to be Glock 18, into his shoulder holster, as he waves to Kid's best friend, who's returning from the kitchen with a plate of microwaved cheese on a slice of bread— _ew_ , who the hell mocks food like that. He parts his lips to accuse Killer of the _worst_ ever decision but the man speaks first, asking him why the hell he has fired a shot; and well, that is fair. One accusation for another.

Once Sanji locks the gun and the magazines onto their new places, he slowly strides to the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee—he still has to be _extra_ careful with moving around, but at least while he's in his briefs and pants, instead of a laced jockstrap and a dress, he doesn't need to worry about anything leaking out. Hair gets in the way, so Sanji fastens a ribbon over his high tail, leaving his ever present fringe in place.

"That's seducing right there" Kid comes up from behind, winking at the man, as Sanji turns around and leans against the counter, frowning—there is a genuine surprise that flashes across the man's face when he notices the bloody red trails covering every inch of the disclosure of his collarbone; a stark contrast to his pale skin.

Sanji smiles smugly, taking a sip of his coffee— _yes, he's had the best sex ever, what about it now?_ —and only by the trained instinct he notices Kid advancing onto him with a clear intent of pushing him into the counter and cornering him. Too bad, so sad—Sanji moves too fast for an ordinary eye to see, as he side steps around the man, leaning onto the man's back and personal space as he holds rests a hand, holding the cup on the man's shoulder, while he's pointing an open switchblade dangerously close to the man's groin.

" _Try again_ " he breathes hot into the man's ear, sending shivers down his spine—he feels it with his chest; the man is cautious to move, but he chuckles "Sexy" under his breath, which obviously displeases Sanji, as he presses his right hip to the man's ass, allowing him to feel the gun, concealed underneath at 1 o'clock, and to remind him of their positions.

Kid _may_ be a weapons enthusiast, who supplies him on missions, but it's Sanji, who's the trained assassin between them, effortless with various death-bringing instruments. In a simple face-to-face stake-out Kid is all, but out of luck.

"Gotcha, gotcha" Kid swings his arms up, giving up and with a second of hesitation Sanji steps back, retrieving the dagger back into his pocket. "Sorry, Sanji"

"Right" he agrees, taking a sip of his coffee, and then they hear Killer, badmouthing his best friend for yet another failed attempt to get laid with Sanji—before a leaf-blade swishes right in front of his face, driving into the wooden balk with a ding.

"My bad, man" Killer glances between the knife and nonchalant Sanji, as if he wasn't the one to throw the blade across one and a half room and still be as precise as he intended.

It's been a few good hours since his encounter with Robin, when Sanji has finally, _finally_ slumped down on the couch of his temporary place; he's immediately perplexed with an unexpected call on his burn phone, the one he's got on his way here, ditching the organization's provided one, which he'll just play out as an accident—the caller identifies to be Reiju, and judging by her voice, she's hella worried. He'd better go to the bathroom right now, as he is feeling sore already, but he can't just ignore her like that.

"Hey, sis" he replies easily, putting her on the dynamic and sprawling across the weary linen of the sofa covering on his stomach—this way his butt is not pressed and his little toy is not abusing him as much.

"Sanji" she echoes, voice strung with uneasiness, "are you alright?"

He feels a little bubble of laughter rising in his chest—oh, he's so much more than alright—and he allows it to spill from his lips. "Yeah"

There is a quiet sigh on the other side of the line, as she continues, concerned, "They've sent Robin after you? That's fucking cruel"

"Yeah," Sanji practically purrs, as he's lazing into the couch—he hasn't had a single moment to rest, having been forcefully taken out of the bed right after sex and having to undergo a few not very comfortable trips around the city. "Robin is _my_ friend, not theirs"

Reiju finally exhales—she's probably been worried beyond herself, unable to breathe properly. Sanji feels bad for being the reason of her anxiety as he's never intended to be the nuisance to his siblings and more so to her, as the family head. She is probably the one hearing all of the shit he's being called back in the headquarters sprouted by his less than fortunate colleagues.

"How's—" Sanji halts mid-word, as suddenly feels a presence right beside him—he chokes, unable to finish his sentence as the shuddering fear claws at his throat, his nails digging into the armrest, trying to calm down and breathe again, once he recognizes the sharp kukri blade less than an inch away from his throat.

He knows that if he lifts his gaze and looks to the side, he'll see a toothy grin and a heap of the hair colored by the burning sun.

"Sanji?!" Reiju is immediately alert. "What's—!"

"Hey, _sister_ ," a silky voice cut in, as the intruder retracts her blade and leaves Sanji blissfully dazed.

" _Cat Burglar_ " the oldest Vinsmoke seethes in dislike, oblivious to her brother's happiness. "Never thought you'd show up"

Sanji scrambles to sit up, making space for his friend to take a seat, still reeling form the contrast of being threatened with his life—oh, maybe he's a little hard now too. _Oops_.

"Well, my baby's here, why wouldn't I join her?" the orange haired goddess slides gracefully onto the couch, and shoots Sanji another toothy grin. "Gotcha there, golden boy"

He blushes under her gaze, muttering "My sun"

"Law, that fucking snake" Reiju hisses no unlike a snake herself, ignoring Sanji's happy sighs when he picks up the phone to lay it between him and his friend, unconsciously rubbing the spot where the curved blade has feathered his skin.

"How's Ichiji?" he finishes his earlier question, now that he's a bit more evenly breathing.

"Seething with anger, just the usual" Reiju snorts, though it's clear she's still not fully relaxed. "He's asked about you"

"Oi, tell him Sanji fucked his target again" Cat Burglar chuckles, nudging the man to his ribs with the handle of her kukri, and then stretching her beautiful long legs, uncovered under the denim shorts, and Sanji swallows hard, trying to avert his gaze—it doesn't help that she props her legs into his lap. "Not that he'd be surprised, right?"

Sanji whines, a little vexed but still flustered, as her feet hit the insides of his thigh, forcing his Glock 43 to rub irritably against the holster's leather and his skin—he's only managed to unfasten his straps from under his jacket and hasn't had time to follow through with his below the waistband holster, concealing a much smaller yet powerful enough handgun.

"Sanji!" Reiju exclaims into the mic, before her voice is promptly cut with a shuffling from the background, closely followed by _two_ voices he knows all to fucking well.

"Did you—"

"Really—"

"Fuck that—"

" _Yakuza?!_ "

The surprised shouts of his older twin and the youngest brother in their family follow each other in quick succession and admirable harmony, as Sanji slaps his forehead to the back of the coach, making his friend chuckle lightly in sympathy. He hasn't planned on telling his _brothers_ about him, once again, falling into the same fucking hole. _Or, well, someone else, getting into some other hole_.

"A yakuza!" the lady beside him asserts, looking at him wide-eyed, but it's not shock or fear, it's surprise and revelation—with a ting of smugness only she can apply. "Isn't that your top notch?"

Sanji blushes scarlet, deeper than he has from being so close to a gorgeous and deadly woman—the marks across his neck deeply redden, finally drawing Cat Burglar's attention, and she smirks, as the realization hits Sanji: he _had_ , in fact, got laid with a heir to a yakuza family, and not just any family, but one of the most influential. He hasn't even finished his prime objective after coming, instead letting the man go.

Someone—with a voice _too_ akin to Ichiji's for comfort—whistles from the background, and Sanji groans, realizing that Reiju has apparently called and put him on speaker in his older brother's infirmary room, where he's been recovering from a fabulous gun gala at one of his last missions.

"Nami, treat the boy to his laurel, we're paying" the oldest brother says, with a barking laugh from Yonji not far behind. "Did you finish him?"

Sanji chokes on his breath, scrambling for his cigarettes, lighting it up immediately. "Um"

"I don't know why am I even surprised," Ichiji sighs, and there is a creak of the hospital bed, that indicates he's turned away from the conversation.

Niji, on the other hand, has joined the discussion full force, piping in with "Was he _that_ good?"

"God tier," Sanji slips and clasps his mouth shut. _Shit_.

Yonji howls, "Whoa, brother, you're a lost cause. Niji, can I be your new twin?" which gets him a stranded 'Shut up' from Sanji, who's dangling dangerously close to the edge of the couch, saved only by Nami's feet pushed up tightly against his hips and thighs.

Niji, though, puts up a pretense of calling a funeral agency, following with a "Yeah, I've just lost my twin. Can we arrange something for him?" all while Yonji tries his best to suppress a cackle—and when Yonji tries his best, it means he's failing spectacularly.

"No, no body, he's been unfortunately blasted away by a bomb" Niji adds in a thoughtful voice, and when Sanji tries to hang up, Nami actually snatches the phone and stops him from reaching it—he can't argue with her, subsiding. "What bomb you say? Hm. Yonji, that's your specialty, help me here"

"A _marimo_ bomb" the youngest supplies helpfully, and their act falls apart when they both break into generous fits of laughter—even Reiju and Ichiji snorts, those treacherous bastards.

"Enough!" Sanji bellows, resulting in another fit of generous roars and giggles—he promises to kick his twin's ass once he returns home.

Reiju finally shuts both of the men, as Ichiji returns to the mic and reminds Sanji of his assignment, with a sigh, "I know it might be hard for you now that you've tasted him. But you have to finish him off—we're in no condition to orchestrate an overthrow of the commanding now that I'm still bed-ridden; and especially because you've got some boner from a guy"

Sanji wants to argue with 'That was not _just_ a guy', but he quickly restrains himself, before he lets his kinks spill out in front of his family. Instead, he replies with "I suspect there is more to it", as he looks over to the currently discarded new Glock 18 he's got from Kid.

Reiju shushes him through the mic, as Yonji and Niji are heard rustling in the background, "Sanji, we gotta go" and then she hangs up—he supposes the doctors are scheduled to pay Ichiji a visit, as the visitors are still highly prohibited due to possible contamination of his yet to heal gun wounds.

Such unmatched skill yet so fragile bodies—that's what he always heard about his family.

He mutters "Take care" to no one in particular, as the phone display darkens.

"So" Nami purrs feline-like, befitting her codename, "What do you plan to do?"

Sanji notes her kukris resting easily against her hip, before he forcefully drags his gaze away from her exposed skin and to her face.

"How much do I have?" he asks, slumping and pinching the bridge of his nose.

Nami probably knows everything from Robin already, and as he can't ask his friend directly without drawing suspicion, he'll do it through her fiancée.

"At best? Barely a week" Nami shrugs, slapping his thigh right where the holster straps tug on his muscles. "The price is high, though"

Sanji knows she means it both materialistically and metaphorically—if everything works out, he'll just give her the majority of his share for this assignment. It it doesn't, though, he's putting Robin in danger and Nami is warning him beforehand to not mess with her love.

"That's enough," he assures her, thinking out a plan. "Anything you ask for, my sun"

She spares him a wide cat-like grin and tilts her head to hear him out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would love to hear your thoughts about this story!♥
> 
> PS: I took some liberties with the Vinsmoke siblings, and they are close to each other in this one. Fuck Judge tho.  
> I'll elaborate on that later.


End file.
